


shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

by addendum



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, max has a crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addendum/pseuds/addendum
Summary: Max lets Preston practice stage makeup on him.





	shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this." Max mumbled, already embarrassed. 

"I can't thank you ENOUGH, Maxwell! I'm always grateful for the opportunity to HONE my SKILLS!" 

"I'm only here because I feel sorry for you. Because you're so pathetic. And David is basically forcing me."

God, that sounded like a lie even to Max's own ears. But there was no he was going to tell the truth, that he was doing this because Preston was...tolerable. He was a bit much sometimes, but he had a certain charm about him. Fuck. That sounded so stupid. 

"Whatever your motives, I truly do appreciate it." Preston said. 

"Do you even have the right color for my skin?" Max wondered. "I'm about nine shades darker than your pasty ass." 

"Of COURSE I do!" Preston said, sounding a little offended that Max had doubted him. "I have an ARRAY of colors in my collection! A master of the stage is ALWAYS prepared!" 

Preston opened a box and Max could see that it was filled with makeup. Woah. This kid wasn't kidding when he said he was dedicated. He opened a glass bottle of what Max assumed was foundation. At least, he knew it wasn't concealer. Max had used up a few bottles of that shit covering up bruises and black eyes. Not that that was any of anyone's business. 

"Jeez, Preston. You have a shitload of makeup." 

"What did I tell you, Maxwell? I come prepared."

He leaned in then, applying cold liquid to Max's skin with some kind of foam ball. His eyes were narrowed with focus, and his breath felt warm on Max's neck. Max felt his heart beat just a little faster. 

"You know something, Max?" Preston asked after a brief lull of silence. 

Max jumped just a little, startled from his own train of thought. 

"Uh, what?" 

"You looked lovely without any of this on. You were blessed with wonderful facial structure. And no blemishes. 

Holy shit. What? Did Preston just call him attractive? And that was the softest he'd ever heard him voice. Fuck. 

"Don't be gay, Preston." 

The other boy just chuckled, reaching back into his bag for powder. He applied it to Max's face gently, brushing a piece of hair away from his forehead. 

"Now it's time for the blush." He said. "So you look awake and healthy under the hot lights of the stage." 

"So, like, do you actually do plays and stuff? Back home, I mean?" Max asked awkwardly, letting his guard down. 

Being grumpy and uninterested all the time was exhausting, and it's not like there was anyone else around anyway. 

"Yes. The theatre was my first love. My favorite role to date was Gavroche in my local theatre's production of Les Miserables." He brightened Max's cheeks with blush. 

"Were you, um, good? Or whatever?" 

"I received many a bouquet of daisies, if that's any indicator." He sighed. "I love daisies." 

"Are you done now?" Max asked. 

"Not quite. Just a touch of mascara will finish the look. One moment." 

Max watched as he pulled out a pink tube. 

"Keep your eyes open." Preston ordered, opening the tube. 

Max did as he was told and Preston leaned in, brushing strokes against Max's eyelashes. 

"Ow! What is this, some kind of torture? You poked my eye!" 

Preston ignored him, stepping back to examine his work. The silence made Max uncomfortable and he squirmed, feeling suddenly insecure. 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"You look gorgeous, Max. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

Max was blushing, he could feel it. Fuck. That was embarrassing. He climbed off the stool he was sitting on. 

"Stop spouting Shakespeare at me!" He ordered. "Am I done? Whatever. I'm leaving." 

Preston grinned. Aw. Max was embarrassed. How endearing. 

"Don't you want to wash that off?" He asked. 

"No. Shut up. It doesn't matter. Fuck you. Bye." 

He ran out of the tent, flustered. He wondered what Preston would look like with mascara on. Really good, probably. Fuck! Max groaned, stalking off and suppressing an inexplicable urge to go pick daisies.


End file.
